Chapter 2

Starsky groaned a little as he struggled to get out of bed. For once he was in time to get a shower and shave before meeting his partner at 8.00. He slid silently out of bed, careful not to wake the sleeping woman at his side. He took a moment to gaze down at her. God how much he loved her. He couldn't actually find the words to express how much. He wanted to unzip her and get inside her, to feel part of her every hour of every day. He surprised himself. Of course he'd had girlfriends before. His mind went back to a beautiful brunette with twinkling eyes and an infectious laugh.

Terry was always going to be the one for him. He'd even promised to marry her, to make her Mrs Starsky until the day she died. He smiled bitterly. Yeah, death came a bit too quick for you, honey, didn't it? he thought. Gunned down by Prudholm's goon in a supermarket heist, a fragment of a bullet lodged in her head, she only lived a week after that.

Gently, Starsky bent down to stroke the blond silky hair on the pillow. I'm never gonna let anything like that happen to you, sweetheart, he vowed silently. Straightening, he groaned again, as his back and side protested and made his way into the shower hoping the hot water would ease away his aches and pains. He stood braced against the shower wall, allowing the cascade of hot water to beat down on him, washing away the memories of last night.

Later, shaved, combed, dried and dressed, he quietly let himself out of his apartment and got into his car. Noticing it was only 7.45, he smiled at the look he knew his partner would have, when he actually got to his apartment on time. Starsky could never get over the fact that Hutch was so untidy, but such a stickler for punctuality. And yet, he never appreciated Starsky's choice of timepiece – what was it with that? He shrugged, then winced and hoped he'd feel better as the day went on.

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Ten minutes later, he drew up outside Hutch's apartment at Venice Place. He got slowly out of the car and pushed open the front door to the apartment block and climbed the stairs. Hutch never locked his door when he was home, so the brunette cautiously pushed it open and went in, just in case Liz had decided to stay the night. He could hear his partner of seven years in the bathroom, still singing. He'd never tell him, but Starsky loved the sound of the blonde's voice, whether it was singing or talking.

Hutch had a way of talking that made people listen. Often pausing before speaking and running his tongue over his bottom lip a little, it made people take notice. Starsky thought about all the times he'd listened to that voice over the years. Of all the times Hutch had been the voice of reason when for one thing or another, he'd gone ranting and raving off the deep end. It usually happened in Dobey's office and Dobey had once told the brunette he had an over developed sense of injustice. Starsky was getting angry that the DEA weren't following through on leads they were giving them, and one of their informants was found dead. As he was winding up for the grand finale, Hutch had put his hand on his partner's shoulder and carefully and gently steered him outside, telling him not to be so fucking stupid and to calm down. For anyone else to have said that, they would have received a famous Starsky left hook, but with the blond and his magic voice it was different.

There were other times too, when his partner's voice was even more important to him. They were the times when he was hurt and needed a focus to help him through his pain. Hutch was his constant. Hutch's low comforting tones could help him get through the rough times. He smiled at the thought of the time Bellamy had shot him full of God knows what. Sitting on the steps in that back alley, he'd finally admitted to Hutch how much he was hurting. His partner had pulled him into a bear hug and had murmured 'I got ya, buddy, I got ya'. At the hospital he'd continued to talk. About the night; about the weather; about work. Anything to keep the brunette with him, in the here and now. Starsky could hold on to that voice like it was a physical being.

Or another time when he'd taken a bullet in the back whilst in an Italian restaurant. Lying on the floor, wondering just what had hit him, he could hear that voice, now raw with emotion, telling the goons that he was going to get to his partner, and they could shoot him too if they'd wanted. It was that voice that had made them stop and allow Hutch to help him, and that voice that calmly took care of him. 'One put a little crease in that thick scull of yours and the other hit your shoulder'.

Starsky exited his reverie as the golden blond came out of his bathroom and staggered theatrically as he saw the brunette. 'What's up Starsk? Ross thrown you out already?' he asked

'No' he answered, a little too sharply, then backed down. 'Couldn't sleep. Its probably the excitement of knowing we can sit in my car all day drinking cups of coffee and watching a house where no one will call and nothing will happen. – It'll get to me every time!'

His partner chuckled. 'Well, you always said you joined the force for the excitement of it! Ready to roll, partner?' Hutch reached for a bottle of greyish coloured liquid, and tucking it under his arm, walked towards the door.

'What's that?' the brunette asked, making a face,

'Wheat germ, desiccated liver, vitamin E and live yoghurt' the blond answered with relish. 'Keep me going all day. And I made enough for two!'

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Hutch couldn't help noticing how his partner moved as they went out to the car. Kind of stiff, not his usual cocky walk – he liked to think of it as Starsky's strut. It didn't really worry him, he was just curious. Maybe he'd slept in a funny position in bed?

'You OK Gordo?' he asked as they got into the car, and caught another wince.

'Yeah, fine' the brunette lied. 'Why d'ya ask?'

'Oh, nothing. Just thought that pretty lady of yours might be getting a bit too much for you to handle, ya know?' he wiggled his eyebrows and put on a lecherous look.

'I said I'm fine OK' Starsky said, a little louder than he'd intended, then softened his voice. 'Just a bit tired. Didn't sleep too well. Sorry'.

He started the engine and 20 minutes later, they took up position near Morito's house, where they could see what (if anything) went on, but Morito and his goons couldn't see them. They settled in to wait, Hutch pouring a little of his shake into a Styrofoam cup, and Starsky hunkering down in his seat, resting his curly head against the window.

By noon, both men were bored rigid. They'd exhausted the 'I spy' topic and had run out of quotes for their favourite game – a conversation using nothing more than quotes from films. After Hutch had said '….plane crash, Oh what a bloody silly thing to do' from Reach for the Sky and Starsky had responded with '……but I expect you to die, Mr Bond' from Goldfinger, they were silent for a while.

Just as Hutch thought his back would go to sleep if he had to sit in the car any longer, Starsky sat up in his seat and nudged the blond. Three men were coming out of the house and climbing into a car across the road. As the car pulled away, Starsky started the engine and, keeping a discrete distance from them, started to tail them.

It wasn't until they had been going for perhaps six miles, down towards the docks, that the driver of the car in front realised they were being followed. Suddenly the speed hiked up, and the car surged forward.

'They've clocked us' Starsky said, as he put his foot to the floor to follow. Starting the siren and placing the mars light on the roof of the car, Hutch clung on to the passenger grab, to save himself being flung about as the big red car negotiated corners and junctions. Starsky's face was a picture of concentration as he nursed his baby through the down town traffic and out onto the coast road, staying within 50 yards of the car in front. The car turned onto a dirt track, sending up a plume of dust and set off again at speed. The Torino side slipped as Starsky turned the wheel quickly, the back end slipping away from him. He righted the car and followed, the blond thanking his lucky stars that at least the striped tomato had good suspension. The pot holes on the road meant that his back was not going to like him in the morning.

The dirt road petered out after about a mile, and the two detectives came across the black sedan they had been following. It was empty, the doors still open wide. The brunette stopped the car and both men drew their guns. Starsky checked the 15 bullet clip on his small Beretta, thumbing off the safety, as Hutch checked that each chamber of his big Colt held a bullet. What Starsky's weapon made up for in numbers of rounds, Hutch's equalled in fire power.

Both men cautiously got out of the car and cast around them for signs of the fleeing criminals. Hutch caught sight of the back of one of the men, and was immediately running after him, his long legs powering him down the uneven path. The brunette was only a second behind, as the came to a small clearing with a tiny lake at it's centre.

Both detectives picked a tree and rested their backs against it, catching their breath and listening. A shot rang out, sending splinters of wood pinging past the blonde's head. Starsky took a chance and ducked round the tree, taking quick aim and firing. He was rewarded with a shout of pain, and one of the three fell to the ground. He looked over at his partner, still breathing heavily.

'One down, two to go. I'll run for the other side of the lake. Cover me?' he said as he readied himself for the sprint.

Hutch nodded and took up a firing position, steadying his hand against the side of the tree trunk. At a quick nod, he laid down six covering shots in rapid succession and the nimble brunette ducked out and ran around the lake, looking for cover in another clump of trees. From there, he could see another of the men who was concentrating on where the shots were coming from. He didn't see Starsky as the dark haired detective crept up behind him. Putting his gun to the man's head he hissed 'Thumbs in your ears, punk'.

The shocked man dropped his gun and did as instructed.

Starsky took out his handcuffs. 'Now, hug the tree' he instructed as the terrified man reached around the trunk with both hands. Snapping the cuffs on and immobilising the man, Starsky realised there had been silence for a couple of minutes.

Still hiding behind the tree he shouted 'You OK partner?'

'Oh just fine and dandy here. Enjoying the ambience, ya know' came the reply. 'You coming back anytime soon?'

Starsky looked around him just in time to see the third man creeping up behind him. He turned just as the man got to him, but was off balance, and as the other man hit, both fell to the ground, rolling over and over trying to find some purchase amongst the leaf litter. With a final roll, both ended in the water, the man on top of the brunette, forcing his face down below the surface.

Starsky thought his lungs would burst. He was out of breath anyway from the running and brief fight and hadn't had time to take a breath as his head went under the water. Pushing up with all his strength, he suddenly felt the other man's weight lifted from his body. He turned over in the muddy water to see Hutch standing over his assailant, pointing his gun.

'What kept ya?' he gasped, trying to get up out of the water, but being dragged down by the weight of his wet clothes.

'Oh, just like to see you having fun, splashing about with your friends' the blond replied, extending a hand to his partner.

Regaining his feet and giving Hutch a dirty look, Starsky looked at the third man. 'Just who the fuck is employing you?' he asked angrily, not expecting an answer.

The man looked him in the eyes. 'Your nemesis', he said. 'Gunther Industries'.

The two detectives looked at each other. 'Never heard of them' they said, gathering up their stuff.

The man smiled grimly. 'Mr Gunther is new in town, but I'm sure you'll get to know him'.

Starsky shrugged and squelched his way back to the car and called in the arrest to the metro, asking for black and white back up, and as he waited, took each of his blue Adidas off and emptied the lake water from them.

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An hour later they were back at their office, both dirty and sweating, and Starsky beginning to look like the creature from the black lagoon. Once they'd handed over to the custody sergeant, both headed upstairs to the showers and for a change of clothing.

As Hutch started to get undressed, he realised the brunette wasn't.

'What's up Gordo? If ya don't get out of those wet clothes soon, you'll catch your death' he asked.

Starsky was looking uncomfortably at his watch. It was way past the time he'd said he be home and the thought of undressing now – he wasn't in the mood for a question and answer session.

Looking over apologetically at the blond, he made an excuse. 'Left my change of clothes at home. Its no use taking a shower now, then getting back into these dirty ones. I'll head off home an' see ya tomorrow'.

Hutch looked over at his retreating back then at Starsky's clothes hanging neatly in his locker and wondered just what was going on.